


Knots and Kinks

by Flinched



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Agriculturally Yours, Blow Jobs, Fantasizing, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 09:49:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17826440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flinched/pseuds/Flinched
Summary: Because sometimes, you just want porn.- Collection of random scenes with nowhere to go. Updated as inspiration strikes.





	Knots and Kinks

**Author's Note:**

> Basically this is just a scene I've had written for [Agriculturally Yours](https://archiveofourown.org/works/897198) which is a story I started a million years ago without any actual clue on what I was doing with it... Point is, the story is way too PG to include this scene so I've made a separate story for my sexy, sexy needs.
> 
> Enjoy!

There were a number a valuable things that Derek had learned in his lifetime; good things inevitably turn bad, if something sounds too good to be true then it probably is, and Stiles’ singing in the shower was testament to torture. 

Not that he was a particularly _bad_ singer by any means, his voice was soft but husky on the lower notes. In any other scenario, Derek might go as far to say that it was soothing. However, the walls were thin between the bathroom and Derek’s bedroom. It was like they were in the same room, except Derek knew that Stiles was actually naked and couldn’t help but think about the droplets that was surely running all the way down his- 

The was a pause in Stiles’ singing, before resuming to repeat the same verse he’d just finished. 

Derek glared at the ceiling, knowing that the bed sheet was tented at his waist. He didn’t trust himself to be quiet enough to look after the problem himself without being heard, so he had the arduous task of waiting for his body to stop betraying him. 

Then Stiles’ breath hitched and one of the notes became strangled before cutting off completely. Derek did not strain to hear anything else. He must have stubbed his toe and was tired of singing. There wasn’t any other activity a 19 year old might partake in when in the shower other than washing his skin. Derek was not listening for any other activity a 19 year old might partake in when in the shower. 

The bedsheets below twitched in disagreement. Derek threw his arms over his face and hoped for a quick, merciful death. Those wishes were abruptly trampled on when he heard a significantly quieter, choked off breath that sounded dangerously close to a moan. It was muted under the steady hum of the water, but Derek has been blessed with a good ear and a natural knack for bad luck. 

Were three cracks above his bed, forked like lightning with paint chipping away at the corners. _’Probably need fixing. Gotta make sure the structure is sound first.’_ He thought, diligently. Actively not thinking about his hands creeping across his torso and hooking under his waistband to pull his underwear against his thighs. 

Stiles’ was unnaturally quiet now. Derek pictured him with teeth sunk into his lower lip, carefully breathing through his nose and desperately listening to for any sign that be might be caught. If only he knew. Derek, being similarly trapped in the exhilaration of potentially being caught, tried to keep his weight still on the bed as stilted stroking motions quietly rustled the bedsheets. He wanted to throw them off, but was conscious that his old, creaky bed would give him away with the movement. 

The murmur of the shower sent Derek’s thoughts spiralling. Did Stiles give himself full attention; both hands, hunched shoulders with frenzied movement as he chased his peak? Derek considered him bracing himself on the wall; fingers splayed out for support, water gathering in the crevices. The other hand loosely fisted, his head back, his back arching as pressure gathered below his navel. 

Maybe he wanted to get caught? He seemed like the sort that craved the danger of the situation. Perhaps he had ‘accidentally’ left the door open, hoping Derek would stumble into the bathroom sleepily, not realising it was occupied until too late? Until Derek had already seen the moles splattered over his back and the tension in his frame. 

That in itself might well be enough to push Stiles into a gasped release over his fingers, feeling cheated to come so unexpectedly before he had chance to embrace the sensations. Derek licked his dry lips, pushing into his hands faster, now hearing the slick sound of skin on skin once wettened with pre-come. 

The bathroom was still suspiciously silent, the patter of water against tile made Derek wonder if Stiles enjoyed drawing out the moment as much as he could. Possibly rather than shocked, he would welcome an intrusion with a lazy smile and calculated eyes that said everything was going to plan. 

_"About time you showed up. Help a guy out, would ya?”_ he might say, pulling Derek out of his clothes. 

Derek wondered what reaction he’d get if he sunk to his knees under the shower-head. He could coax a surprised groan into the steam above. Hands would grip his hair tightly, holding him still as Stiles jerked his hips with ragged breaths. Derek would look up and see the length of his neck - head thrown, eyes clenched, gritted teeth as he stuttered through breathing. 

Derek couldn’t tell if it was the shower or blood roaring in his ears. He didn’t care. His movements now frantic and messy and he felt the swooping pressure under the skin begin to consolidate above his groin. The wet slapping sound fizzled away as the muscles in his abdomen began to tense in anticipation. 

The thought of the water pressing upon on his face, his mouth full, set Derek’s body into overdrive. The final image of flesh hitting the back of his throat with sloppy uncoordinated movements, Derek sucking in muffled breaths between each thrust, knowing that when Stiles’ came he would hold his head still as he push against him - not choking, but stifling - was enough for Derek to come undone with a groan. 

Hot spurts shot through his fingers and splattered across bedsheets. His breath suddenly heavy from- 

”Derek, I’m not sure if you’re up yet but I’m going to make us some breakfast, okay?” 

His eyes shot open as he sat up, looking over at his door that had offered to make him breakfast. 

He looked down at his crotch, finding himself clothed but also sticky. He grimaced. “Okay.” He mumbled, “I’ll be down after I’ve cleaned up.” 

”About that,” The door started with a self conscious giggle, “I’d leave that for a couple of minutes… I’ve just been in there and it’s not pretty…” 

Derek soured, scowling at the wood. “I’m sure I’ll manage.” Stiles ambled downstairs with a loud ‘suit yourself’ and Derek pushed himself up fully, his feet finding the floor. He pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering which one of the two in the house was the teenager, considering he’d just had a wet dream at the tender age of 25. 

When he looked up, he saw a a tabby, ginger tail swishing judgmentally from the dresser. “Fantastic,” he muttered as he stood up, not looking at the green slitted eyes that he knew had just watched him cream himself in his sleep. “If you ever develop speech, I’m throwing you in the combine harvester,” he threatened without conviction before making his way to the bathroom. 

Greenberg padded along the corridor until he sat at the top of the stairs. He wowled haughtily as he did so. Derek wasn’t convinced his was actually trying to inform Stiles of the scene he’d witnessed. 

He did not turn an ungodly shade of pink as the water began to fall down against his face. He also did not stare at the white stain on his shower curtain, which hadn't been rinsed away after by the showers previous occupant. Derek reached out for the thermostat and turned the nozzle to the coldest setting, wondering how the hell he'd gotten himself into this mess and if he actually wanted to get out. 

Derek hadn't realised he'd left the bathroom door open in his haste to flee the Greenberg's screams. Unfortunately as this wasn't a dream, when Stiles came up to investigate the sudden sound of wailing, he got an eyeful, scarpered back down the stairs, tripped over the last few steps with a red face, followed by a cat that looked far more smug than it had any right to be. 

When Derek came downstairs, both parties were so avid in not looking at each other that neither had realised the entire meal was eaten in silence.


End file.
